


a world i'm still charting

by 8glassesofmilkin3minutes



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: 1D Stan Alex, A proposal possibly, Alex and Henry are daddies, Alex calling Henry papi chulo? Again: read to find out, Alex's dust allergy, Canon Compliant, Drabbles, Fluff, Gen, Lawyer Alex, M/M, Mid-Canon, Moving In Together, NYE 2024, Possible High School Alex, Post-Canon, Sibling Fluff, alexjerkingofftolouistomlinsonidkreadtofindout, dog POV, lake house, old photo albums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8glassesofmilkin3minutes/pseuds/8glassesofmilkin3minutes
Summary: Drabbles, because my notes app is overflowing and all these ideas are not going to end up as their own 1-2k's.1) An ãwkwärd meeting between Shaan & Henry2) Henry telling Bea about Alex3) Picking up right where RWRB left off, ft. pics of baby Alex4) An exchange between Nora and Henry on his and Alex’s wedding day5) Sleepy cuddles before Henry has to leave for a while6) Milkshakes n c̶h̶i̶p̶s̶ fries @ the lake house
Comments: 65
Kudos: 197





	1. sexual. relations.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slight parallel to Alex and Ellen's meeting in which some paperwork had to be done, some boxes ticked off, only it's Henry and Shaan this time.

“Any sexual relationship?” Shaan’s unwavering professional tone is contrasted starkly by Henry’s rapidly reddening cheeks and downward glance.

“Well, er,” he considers. If they haven’t gone beyond blowjobs, does it count? These rules are probably based on some age-old standards of sex that require some form of penetration, right? Not that he wasn’t planning on _changing_ the fact that he and Alex hadn’t gone beyond just blowjobs soon—

A sensation stirs between his legs at the thought. _Shit. Not now._

“If you must contemplate for that long—” Shaan begins gently.

“Er, yes. Yes, sexual. Relations.” He would really like to bang his head against the table for answering so stupidly. Just one good, hard bang to exorcise whatever demon possessed him and caused him to answer that question in four stupid, stupid, unnecessary parts. Like a stupid person. Stupid. He rubs a hand across his chin, eyes darting to the window, just for somewhere to go.

Shaan nods, ticking something off on the paper placed atop his open file folder.

Henry knows Shaan isn’t technically the designated person for tasks like this. He must have volunteered, insisted, even, to be given it, and while this is one of the most painfully awkward experiences of his life, and Henry may or may not have considered feigning a sudden illness to get out of it at least twice at this point, he’s eternally grateful that Shaan, of all people, is the one doing it. He doesn’t know if he could’ve handled it being anyone else. And Shaan seems to know that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coming soon: bea finding out about alex & henry, henry looking at pics of baby alex, a david pov, a rafael luna pov, and a second, less disastrous lake house trip!


	2. are you happy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bea and Henry's convo post-Bea-walking-in-on-Henry-and-Alex's-FT-session. Basically when June said " _until now you weren't fucking the prince of England!_ " but like, Henry version. (P.S. I love that scene with June so much.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I always find myself typing "ALex" and then having to change it to "Alex?" Lowkey ALex does kinda have Alex energy, tho.

“ _What?_ ” Bea exclaims, more out of excitement than surprise.

Henry is surprised but pleased to find that there’s no tension left tight in his chest. He laughs and looks away. 

“Yeah.”

“So he fancies men, then?”

“ _Pff_ —Yeah, he fancies men.”

“I just mean ‘cause, ‘cause we were wondering! And—"

“Well, he fancies _one_ man,” Henry says with a shrug and a smile he simply cannot contain. 

Bea releases a happy, high-pitched noise, and shakes Henry by the arm. He pushes her off lightly.

“You _bastard_! My god! _Henry!_ ” she says, dragging the last syllable into a shriek and reaching over to squish Henry’s cheek. 

“Get off!” he says with a laugh, swatting at her.

“Oh my god. Henry,” she props her arm up on one elbow and rests her head on her hand.

“Henry,” Henry mimics, mirroring her position. 

She squishes his cheek again, and he pushes her hand away. “You’d best stop.” 

“Okay, _fine_.” She rolls her eyes. “But you absolutely _must_ tell me. How is it, how are things? How are you? How is he? How is _he_? How are—" she gasps, covers her mouth, “ _you both_? Like a couple.”

“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Oh? Is it like that? Is it,” she wiggles her entire body suggestively, “strictly physical?” The teasing tone is nowhere near subtle.

Henry "always having a bit of a thing" (Bea's words, not his) for the president's son wasn't news to Bea, so the revelation wasn't _completely_ out of nowhere, and she admits now that she could sense something between them since they'd started making their damage-control appearances together, but she didn't want to pry. Still, Henry had never gushed or ranted to her, not the way he did Pez, so she wasn't fully familiar with the, well, extent of it. Until now.

“Ew! Bea _trice_!”

She cackles. "Really, though, Henry. How is it? How are you?" The second question has much deeper implications that Henry would rather not get into just yet.

“It’s nice.” 

She looks at him with wide, expectant eyes.

So Henry tells her about the New Year's party, then ends up backtracking to Alex's weekend in London— _Just for context!_ he yells, when she rolls her eyes at the "incoherent narration"—the texts and phone calls that followed, and a fast-forwarded version of their many rendezvous since. When Henry notices his mouth getting dry, he reaches for his phone to check the time and realizes he's been talking for nearly an hour.

"So does he treat you well?" she asks softly.

"Oh, he treats me _just right_ ," he says with a cheeky smile.

Bea sputters. "Don't—I don't need to _hear_ that!"

"You literally started it."

"It's okay when _I_ do. _You're_ the baby."

Henry scoffs. "You know damn well what I got up to in uni, darling."

“I will not hear another word about where my little brother is putting his knob," she declares, raising her hand in dismissal.

Henry hums in agreement and they sit in silence for a moment.

"So, are you happy?”

And Henry... thinks about it. His first thought is, _of course_ , but then he remembers the temporariness of it all, the nagging reminder of impermanence, the inevitable end. 

But then, he thinks about Alex. Alex and his 3AM thoughts and unguarded laugh and the way his eyes look like honey in the sun. Alex, and the way he follows Henry's messy, unsure train of thought and doesn't respond with apprehension, but his own equally tangled-up ideas. Alex, and the way, when the two of them work those thoughts out together, everything becomes just a little clearer. _Is he happy?_

“I’m happy," Henry says.

“Then I’m happy. For you,” Bea leans over him to hug him.

“Ugh. Don’t be a sap.” 

“Oh, but I must! How can I not, when my little brother’s in _love_?”

“Now. No one said anything about that.”

“Mhm. Alright.”

“Seriously!” he says, attempt at a convincing tone foiled by the pitch his voice has decided to raise to, and he feels distinctly like an eight year-old again, trying and failing to get treated like a grown-up by his older siblings.

"Whatever you say, Hen," Bea says. And Henry finds that more than frustration, he's honestly feeling a little comforted by the fact that Bea can see right through him, can understand the words he's not yet ready to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pulled some inspiration from a time my older sister asked me, "So you just want his dick?" and I said, "Yeah, I just want his dick," and she went "Akjzshdksjhkf don't _say that!_ "


	3. in places that we’ve never been, for reasons we don’t understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one picks up right where the book leaves off. Photos of baby Alex are involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Walking in the Wind" by 1D 😉

Alex took Henry into the house, and room by room he shared it with him. 

He didn’t just tell him which room was which—it was still fully furnished, so that wouldn’t take much guesswork anyway—he really shared it with him. He brought every room to life with the stories he told. It was like he couldn’t bring Henry to the window seat without telling him about the lists he used to hide under there, couldn’t pass by the old oven without mentioning how his dad would use it to store pots and pans. Henry could almost see a little Alex and June, playing, fighting, mixing with hordes of cousins, and if he went back far enough, with both a happy Ellen and Oscar, having dinner together or curled up in the sitting room on a Saturday night.

The lights weren’t on. They pulled open the curtains and wandered through the house guided only by whatever the moon had to offer, the streetlights in the distance, and, occasionally, the flashlights of their phones.

With big brown eyes and a genuine smile, everything Alex showed Henry seemed to remind Alex of something else. He’d grab Henry’s arm and be about to lead him through a doorway, but pass by a framed photo on the fireplace mantel and stop abruptly. 

“Oh, wait!” he’d say. 

Henry had to kiss him.

Alex led Henry to his old bedroom, and they decided to open the windows to let some air in. Alex tried, grunting with the effort. 

“It’s a little jammed,” he admitted after a moment. 

Henry walked over and managed to slide it open with one quick pull. When he turned around, Alex may as well have been drooling.

“I loosened it for you,” was what Alex decided to say.

Alex then decided to dramatically show off every one of the trophies and medals in his bedroom—“Third place in the fifth grade geography bee. Hid this one back here ‘cause I was disappointed and embarrassed.” 

Henry laughed. “You horrible, disgusting, overachiever.” He pulled Alex in by his hips and kissed the apple of his cheek. Alex pushed him away, an adorable smile tugging at his lips.

He presented his awards with a mixture of theatrics, genuine pride, and an inexplicable heaviness, like the fake gold of his innumerable lacrosse trophies was a reminder of something a little less shiny.

“Of course you were a jock,” Henry mused from his spot on Alex’s bed, his head propped up on one elbow. 

“I mean, I didn’t _fully_ count as a jock, considering I—”

“ _Mhm_ ,” Henry said, unconvinced, fiddling with his cufflinks. 

“You little shit!” Alex lunged toward Henry and attacked his face with a kiss. 

When they broke apart, Henry reached forward and held onto the back of Alex’s head with one hand. “Your little shit.”

Alex laughed.

They ended up making out on the bed for an indeterminate amount of time, Alex’s shiny bomber jacket draped over his desk chair, Henry’s suit jacket on the closet door, his tie loosened. Then they were just talking, quietly, Alex’s head on Henry’s chest as Henry ran his fingers through his hair, until Alex’s voice faded into nothing but soft breathing. Henry held him there for a while before getting up and tucking him under the soft, albeit dusty, comforter, and he left him with a kiss on the forehead, starting to wander through the house alone, the only noises the creak of the floorboards under his feet and the occasional car passing by on the street outside.

Henry found his way to a large wooden bookshelf in the sitting room Alex showed him earlier. It was filled with classics, biographies, the occasional children’s or young adult novel, and even an old textbook or two. But what caught his eye as he ran his finger along the spines was something else, sitting on top of a row of books, a thick, bound photo album. He pulled it out of its place on the shelf and brushed a layer of dust off of the cover. There was a quote and a designer name etched into it, and on the first page Henry flipped to, a picture of a little girl who appeared to be June, and Oscar, sitting in the grass together, a bubble wand in June’s hand. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be looking at this, but he didn’t think Alex would mind, and he desperately wanted to see more. Especially of baby Alex. He felt a giddy smile grow on his face. He would _really_ like to see baby Alex.

He felt a little uneasy standing in the dark house alone, so he returned to Alex’s room, album still in hand. He sat down slowly next to Alex, who was still sleeping, and opened to the beginning. 

On just the first page, he nearly gasped. There was the same little girl who was blowing bubbles with Oscar, but in this photo she was even younger, wearing a t-shirt with text on it, a bit cut off, but still readable. _Best Big Sister_. And in her arms, swaddled in a blanket, a baby with just his round little nose and an unbelievably plump cheek peeking out. Henry looked over at the big Alex sleeping right next to him and fought back the terribly strong urge to take him in his arms and squeeze him tight.

Henry continued flipping through the album. There were lots of people he didn’t recognize, adults and children who sometimes faintly resembled Alex or his mother, a woman standing next to Ellen who looked so much like her, Henry assumed they must have been sisters, and a young Alex, sucking on a popsicle, juice dripping down his chin as he sat in what appeared to be a laundry basket. And scattered through all the more intimate family moments were pictures of Alex with his family at formal events, dressed sharp and proper, Ellen or Oscar always looking especially important and powerful. Even in pictures like these, some where Alex appeared to be no older than thirteen, he sported that signature charming smile, charismatic and comfortable and like he belonged wherever he was. Henry was always impressed by it. It surely came off a lot more genuine than his own press smile. 

Then Henry happened upon what was possibly the most wonderful photo he had ever, in his life, laid his eyes on. It was Alex, probably five years old or younger, clutching onto a stuffed toy, his cheek pressed against a pillow, fast asleep. Next to Henry, the real Alex not only also had his cheek pressed against the pillow, but was holding tight onto a smaller, decorative one, and Henry actually wanted to scream. He looked from the photo back to Alex again. He stifled a laugh. The parallels were unbelievable. 

He pulled out his phone and held the album open so that the breathtakingly adorable photo of Alex and the breathtakingly adorable real-life Alex were lined up next to each other, and as he pressed the button on his camera, a blinding flash of white shot directly onto Alex’s face. He dropped the album onto the bed in surprise and fumbled to point the phone away from his sleeping boyfriend, sure that he’d woken him up. But although Alex stirred, he stayed asleep. He must have been exhausted. It had, after all, been an _extremely_ eventful day.

After getting a proper shot— _without flash_ —Henry went to return the album to its place, and as he stood by the bookshelf, looking at the picture he took and feeling an overwhelming fondness spread through his chest, he contemplated sending it to June and Nora.

A creak. Footsteps. Henry was startled at first, but realized it must have just been Alex, awake now. A sneeze. Alex turned the corner.

“H?” he asked groggily. 

“Hey, darling.”

“Hey,” he responded, voice rough, swiping his hand across his nose. Henry realized, horrifiedly, that Alex was crying. He spotted tears streaming down his face in the dim light, and many more threatening to spill out of his eyes at any moment. 

“Love?” Henry took a step towards him and cradled his face with one hand. “What’s wrong?” His mind ran through a frantic list of possibilities. Were these happy tears, because of the election? His expression didn’t seem especially happy. He couldn’t imagine what could have Alex, all of a sudden, this upset.

“Dust,” Alex choked out miserably.

“Oh,” Henry burst into laughter. “Shall we head out then? And let’s wash your”—another sneeze—“face.”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.” Alex began to nod, interrupted by another violent sneeze.

Henry laughed again. 

“Stop laughing at me!” Alex said, lightly punching Henry’s arm.

“I thought you were upset!” Henry said, not stopping.


	4. you’re the one that i want, at the end of the day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exchange between Nora and Henry on his and Alex’s wedding day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back at it again with the 1d titles 😌

“And—and help him take breaks when he gets hyperfixated.” Her voice cracks on this line and a tear spills out of one eye. She quickly wipes it away. 

Henry nods, eagerly taking in every word, a little surprised that Alex’s somewhat eccentric best friend and ex-girlfriend is showing him this much raw emotion. 

She sighs deeply. “I just—I love you, Henry. He loves you.” She reaches for Henry like she’s not sure exactly where she’s going with it, but opts for placing a hand on his knee. “Just don’t break that kid’s heart.”

Henry shakes his head as if to say _never_ , still not sure he can find the words to respond to this sudden display of vulnerability.

“I don’t talk like this. I don’t usually talk like this.”

Henry feels a laugh bubble out of him. “I can see that,” he says, then immediately wonders if it came off rude. But Nora laughs, too. Then she shakes her fingers out.

“Anyway, now that that’s over. Why don’t we make this a very legitimate and official agreement?”

Henry furrows his brow, waiting for her to go on.

She extends her little finger. He stares at it.

“Oh come on, your royal old-manliness. Haven’t you ever made a pinkie promise before?”

“Oh!” he laughs. “No, no. I have.” 

“Then?” She looks down at her pinkie expectantly. 

Henry reaches out and wraps his own around hers. “I promise,” he says.

“What do you promise?”

“To take care of him. Not to break his heart.” 

“There we go,” she says, and instead of pulling away, she pulls Henry in for a hug. 

He hugs her back. 

“Thank you, Nora.”

•

After the vows, Henry and Alex are making their way from table to table, that same pinkie Henry linked with Nora’s earlier now linked with Alex’s as they walk.

“You should know,” Henry says, “that I made a very important promise today.”

“So did I,” Alex says. 

Henry stops walking, looking down at Alex and his immaculately gelled curls. “Even more important.”

Alex looks up at him questioningly. 

“A pinkie promise. To Nora. That I wouldn’t break your heart.”

“Phew,” Alex says, swiping a hand across his forehead. “That’s a relief, ‘cause I was worried what we said up there wasn’t enough.” He points over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Now you _know_ I’m in this forever.”

“ _Now_ I know.”

And somehow they end up with Alex’s fingers in Henry’s hair and Henry’s arms around Alex, kissing each other long and deep. Normally, they wouldn’t be making out like this in front of these many people, but it’s their (untelevised, thank the lord above, but mostly Alex’s stubbornness) wedding day. Henry thinks they have a pass.

“Seriously, though,” Alex says as the two of them start walking again. “That’s sacred.”

Henry is about to laugh, but when he looks to Alex, there’s not a hint of humor in his expression.


	5. the way you make time disappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sleepy conversation before Henry has to go away for a while to start a new shelter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from dear patience by niall horan

**Location: Brooklyn, NY  
Time: 1:24 AM**

Alex threads his fingers through Henry’s hair, pillow-soft and messy, while Henry’s chest rises and falls in the dark of their bedroom. He can just barely make out Henry’s slightly parted lips that somehow still manage to look elegant. Alex hasn’t been watching the time, but it feels like they’ve been like this, Henry asleep, Alex not, for quite a while.

Henry stirs the tiniest bit. “Still awake?” he whispers, just quietly enough that he doesn’t startle Alex. His voice is rough with sleep.

“Mhm,” Alex whispers back.

“Why?” 

“Because if I go to sleep now,” Alex explains, one hand still slowly working through Henry’s hair, “then by the time I wake up, you’ll be going.”

Henry puts one arm around Alex and pulls him closer. 

“Love,” he says, so quietly Alex feels the word against his neck more than he hears it. 

“And I wanna spend as much time as possible with you before you go.”

Henry and Pez had been giving their full attention and care to getting their Brooklyn youth shelter off the ground for the past few years, and now that they had an amazing team in place to look after it and enough data to inform their next move, Henry was leaving for an indefinite amount of time to start on their next location. He’d said about three weeks, but no one knew for sure. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Alex says, and Henry responds by pressing the softest, laziest kiss to his lips and opening his eyes. “I wish I could meet every single kid y’all helped.”

“Not even _I_ can at this point. Isn’t that brilliant?”

Alex employs full British accent. “It’s absolutely bonkers.”

“Shut up,” Henry says, but even at a whisper, Alex can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Really, though. It is. And I’m just so, so proud of you.” He twists a strand of Henry’s hair around his finger. “But I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too. But you can call me every day. And maybe even show up uninvited to have quick, risky sex a room away from very important people. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“What were we thinking?” Alex laughs.

“It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

“It did,” Alex says. They’ve come this far. What are a few weeks apart compared to that?

Still, it’s different now. Now that they’ve become part of each other’s routine.

“If you won’t be sleeping for a while, then,” Henry says, “perhaps you could do something for me.” He slides one hand up Alex’s side, and their faces inch closer.

“Whatever you need.”

“I’d like…” 

Alex shifts his hand to cradle the back of Henry’s head, and, lips brushing, Henry says, sultrily, “A glass of almond milk.”

Alex pulls away. “Sneaky bitch.”

Henry laughs. “Please?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is why people from Texas hate Washington elites. Ruining the goddamn dairy industry.


	6. red, white, blue's in the skies // summer's in the air and baby heaven's in your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A celebration of British-American differences [or] they’re at the lake house again and there are milkshakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from national anthem by lana del rey

_June keeps shushing them as they stumble to their rooms with hands full of grease-soaked burger bags, but she’s louder than any of them, so it’s a zero-sum game. Bea, perpetually the lone sober voice of the group, picks one of the suites at random and deposits June and Nora in the king-size bed and Pez in the empty bathtub._

_“I trust you two can handle yourselves?” she says to Alex and Henry in the hallway, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes as she hands them the third key. “I fully intend to put on a robe and investigate this french-fries-dipped-in-milkshake thing Nora told me about.”_

_“Yes, Beatrice, we shall behave in a manner befitting the crown,” Henry says. His eyes are slightly crossed. “Don’t be a tosser,” she says, and quickly kisses them both on the cheek before vanishing around the corner._

_-Red, White & Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston_

“I’ve never had it.”

Alex sputters out what sounds like the human equivalent of a keysmash. 

“ _You, too?_ ”

Henry shakes his head.

“God! What do y’all _eat_ in England?”

Henry snorts and turns around, cupping Alex’s face in one hand, kissing his cheek. “Scones and tea exclusively, love. Thought you’d have learned that by now.”

Alex rolls his eyes but stays right where he is, legs wrapped around Henry’s waist, chin on his shoulder, as he sits behind him on the back porch of his dad’s lake house. 

The touching hadn’t stopped since they picked Henry up on the drive down. Alex had received a repulsed look from June when he’d muttered “ _Ay, papi chulo_ ,” as he squeezed Henry’s bicep when Henry effortlessly lifted June’s cooler onto one shoulder, _again_ , on the way into the house, and an eyebrow raise from his dad who was, unfortunately, close enough to hear. But, despite that isolated incident that made Henry go red to his ears, no one seemed to mind the constant cuddling.

Now the sun is setting and it’s pleasantly humid and he’s just been given the devastating news that his grossly posh British boyfriend has never dipped his french fries in a milkshake. Ever. In his life.

“Didn’t you like, go to boarding school?”

“Yes, but—“

“So you guys didn’t like, have fast food nights. With a bunch of your friends. Make your dorm smell like salt and grease and...”

Alex’s hand motions are getting more and more frantic, his voice more and more indignant, and he’s dangerously close to accidentally slapping Henry’s face.

“No, we did. That just never crossed anyone’s mind. Why would we want to sog up our fries with the liquidy—“

“‘Cause of the ice cream! Sweet and salty! It’s basic math, babe!”

“First of all, I dunno what kind of maths they taught you as a child and second, do you really put ice cream on your shakes?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said ice cream.”

“Uh yeah. It’s part of a milkshake.”

“Now I know why you haven’t lost the baby fat,” Henry says, poking Alex’s thigh. 

“Henry,” Nora pipes up from her spot on the swing, legs resting in June’s lap. “What’s the point of a milkshake without ice cream?”

Alex is relieved there’s finally someone else as appalled by this whole thing as he is. 

“Okay, let’s not act like I created them! And it’s the milk! It’s a _milk_ shake, is it not?”

“I can’t breathe,” Alex wheezes. 

“Surely you can.”

Alex untangles himself from Henry and shuffles over to kneel in front of him on one knee. 

“Henry,” he says. “Will you do me the honor of trying a real milkshake with me?” 

“We’ve just eaten dinner.”

“This is dessert.”

“After this senseless attack on my childhood I’ve just been subject to, I don’t know if I’m up to doing anything with you.”

“I’m sorry. Please? I’m deeply sorry that we attacked you and I just want you to experience this food combination the way you deserve to.” Alex stands up and holds a hand out to Henry. Henry reaches up for it.

“And were robbed of by your English upbringing—“

“Alright, changed my mind.” He sits back down.

“No! I’m sorry.”

Henry eyes him skeptically, then takes his hand again and stands up. 

“That you’ve gone this far living a life of questionable quality,” Alex mutters, dashing into the house to get they keys to the Jeep.

“What was that?” Henry shouts after him.

“Nothing!”

They drive into the purple and orange Austin sunset, security following, and Alex can’t help looking over at the way the wind whips through Henry’s gorgeous (and longer than usual) hair, the way he squints a little as pokes his head through the open window, and eventually, the way he slides his hand onto Alex’s thigh and leaves it there, and it’s so simple and so cliché but Alex makes a few unnecessary turns on the way to the nearest P. Terry’s just so he can have it for longer. It’s an added bonus that he gets to share with Henry one more of his favorite country classics that Henry doesn’t hesitate to admit he genuinely likes. 

“You know, your voice got more southern when you ordered,” Henry says as he takes the two orders of fries and two milkshakes from Alex as Alex parks the Jeep in the lot for them to eat. 

“Really?” Alex asks. 

“Mhm.” Henry passes Alex his cup, the condensation dripping off the red P. Terry’s logo and onto Alex’s fingers, and pulls the two fries out of the brown paper bag. The girl at the window was wide-eyed and smiling when she took his order, in a way that Alex had come to learn meant someone recognized him but didn’t want to say anything about it. He was grateful. 

“Okay, now.” Alex stretches his fingers. “There’s a method.”

“I’m all ears,” Henry says, looking at Alex indulgently.

“It’s simple. Just, you gotta drink a little and eat a few fries before you start dipping.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Henry starts on his shake with the cutest slurp—can slurps be cute? Everything about Henry seemed cute to Alex these days—and closes his eyes a little as he swallows.

Alex looks at him expectantly as he shoves three fries in his own mouth at once. 

“Alright, I’ll give you that, that was delightful.”

“Yeah!” Alex shouts, his triumph almost knocking over his own shake. Henry takes another long slip of the shake and starts to eat his fries, and they sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, the volume of the speakers turned down, looking off down the road as the last rays of sunlight disappear from the sky.

“Okay, you’re ready.”

“To be completely honest they both taste wonderful, love, but I really don’t see how _dipping_ —“

“Hey!” Alex has already shoveled down a number of dipped fries at this point. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Henry laughs and daintily pulls a single fry between his fingers. “So you want me to just take the chip...”

Alex screeches. “Yes, just take the chip, honey dear,” he says, imitating Henry’s accent as he leans over and pulls two fries out of his container, scooping up a bit of vanilla-caramel milkshake on their tips and holding it up to Henry’s mouth. “Here, I want you to get a good proportion.”

“God, it’s like losing my virginity all over again,” he says, eyeing the fries like he isn’t about to experience the most delectable, unhealthy fast food combo in existence.

“For sure.”

“The things I do for love,” he says, finally, _finally_ taking a bite. A beat. “That’s so strangely delicious.”

“Hell yeah!” Alex exclaims, kissing Henry’s lips, tasting the salt from the fries. “You love it.”

Henry takes another fry and tries it again. 

“I love it.”

Alex kisses Henry again. 

They go on eating and laughing and kissing until Henry is leaning back in his seat, a hand on his stomach, a few sludgy sips of milkshake left in his cup, and Alex is feeling that pleasant satisfaction of sugar and salt sitting heavy in his stomach as well. 

Henry opens his mouth to start to speak, then stops, looking out the window at Alex’s security and his own PPO’s car parked nearby. He opens his mouth again. 

“If you direct me,” he says, slowly. “Think I could drive us back?”

Alex realizes all of a sudden that he’s never seen Henry drive. He assumes he knows how but has never had the need to or been allowed.

“Sure,” he says. “Switch?” 

Henry nods, and they both get out of the vehicle, taking each other’s places. Henry feels around the pedals with his shoe.

“Okay, accelerator, brake,” he mutters.

“Wait, you do know how to drive, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Okay. Just checking.”

“I just rarely do it.”

“Alright.”

Henry puts his hand on the gear and shifts into drive, then into park again. 

“Just familiarizing myself with the car.”

“Take your time. But, uh.” Alex looks over to find the source of approaching footsteps. “Is that your PPO?”

Henry lets out a puff of air and slumps back in the seat. “Goddamn it.” He gets out of the car and meets the man on the pavement. 

Alex is about to sit back and wait but curiosity gets the better of him, so he takes the key out of the ignition and walks over to where Henry and his PPO are talking, Henry getting increasingly heated. 

“It just a five minute drive, Tom, no one has to—“

“Is he not allowed?” Alex asks.

“Alex—” Henry starts.

“For His Highness’s safety—“

“What rubbish,” Henry groans.

“He’s technically allowed, it’s just a necessary precaution. We wouldn’t want to risk anything, and these are unfamiliar streets.”

“Ugh! Let him _live_!” Alex shouts with a laugh, high on the warm summer air and the bubbly, carefree feeling in his chest. 

The PPO looks like he’s struggling hard not to flash Alex the dirtiest of looks. “Precisely why we encourage him not to do this.”

“Wait,” Alex says, turning to Henry, serious. “Are you that bad? At driving?”

“Ridiculous,” Henry scoffs, snatching the keys out of Alex’s hand. Alex gapes at him as he turns to the PPO with an air of nonchalance. “You’ll be behind us then, Tom?” Henry asks as if it’s barely a question, and Alex feels giddy at this burst of princely attitude. 

The PPO, Tom, gives him a curt nod. “Yes, sir.” He nods at Alex as well, with an quickness that suggests he’d rather do anything but, before walking off to his own car.

Henry is grinning and Alex is laughing as they slip back into the Jeep, Henry’s motions much more resolute and determined than minutes earlier. He pulls out of the parking lot and—

“Oh my god,” Alex says, as the tire on his side of the car drives over a sizable bump. 

Henry’s eyes are very wide, and while he continues leaving the lot, he’s sitting very, very still.

Then the back tire drives over the same bump. 

“Was that the—“

“Curb.” Alex finishes. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex says at the same time Henry says, “No matter, right?” and they both laugh. 

They’re on the main road, and Henry’s going at least 10 above the limit, but there’s no one around, so Alex says nothing, and his heart swells as he catches sight of Henry’s giddy smile. 

He looks up through the open roof and there’s a few spatters of stars against the dark sky, so he clicks off his seatbelt and stands and lets out a happy whoop into the quiet night that gets lost in the wind, and Henry looks up at him, laughing, equal parts awed and terrified. 

“I’m doing fine, right?”

“Amazing despite rolling right over the curb the second you started.”

“It’s not my fault you people drive on the wrong side of the road!”

Alex lies in bed that night with a pleasantly tired ache in his legs, the one that comes after a long day of the best kind.

He looks over at Henry.

“Summer looks good on you, baby,” he whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> U guys,, I cannot beLIEVE I am finally erasing this story from my notes, do u know how long it has been sitting there, unfinished, waiting for me to just FINISH it? So many months. I don’t even know.


End file.
